


Ducky: The College Years

by Amy



Category: California Diaries - Ann M. Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-15
Updated: 2006-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-25 08:17:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1640969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amy/pseuds/Amy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disorientation. Reorientation. Answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ducky: The College Years

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to jcrewguy and puck for the betas. All remaining mistakes my own.
> 
> Written for Tartanshell

 

 

AUGUST 27  
NOT EVEN NOON YET

The sign on your door says CHRISTOPHER.

Well, it doesn't just say CHRISTOPHER. It says CHRISTOPHER and RICHARD on two separate construction-paper fish. That's your roommate's name. You've emailed him four times, quick notes about whether you're bringing a fridge (yes) and if you have a VCR (no) and whether you have any nicknames (depends on who you ask). He's sent you nine long emails back. Three of those were forwards with jokes that either weren't funny or are too smart for you. You're pretty sure he won't be a Cro Mag, at least. Although he might be a complete nerd. There's a whole elitism thing there, too.

You walk past your door twice. After eighteen years, it's like you expect your door to say DUCKY.

But the sign says CHRISTOPHER McCRAE and your name's not common enough that you think it could be another one, and you realize that the number matches up to your key. You try to unlock your door, but it turns out it was unlocked already; you lock yourself out by accident. You laugh, you open it, you let yourself in.

You and Ted. Mom and Dad are off in Sri Lanka. You know this because they called last night, at 2:47 in the morning, after you'd already fallen asleep because you wanted to get a good one in, the night before moving into the dorms. They'd wanted to wish you luck. They hadn't noticed the time.

"Isn't it late to be awake, Christopher?" Mom had asked. You didn't tell her you'd been sleeping for almost four hours. You just said the car was already packed.

Ted doesn't see why you're living in the dorms. _He_ hadn't, he points out, and he was fine. But Ted likes everyone at home. Ted's still happy to be around there. You want to get out. Although from the moment you first unlocked that room, saw the bunk beds and desks and dressers, you wondered why.

Ted is carrying the mini-fridge he got you for a graduation present. You're pretty sure he wants it to be the first thing in the room so that by the time he leaves he can have a cold beer, or at least a Coke.

No. You're being unfair, McCrae. He's just trying to be nice. Way to be an ungrateful little brother.

You'd wanted to remember every detail of moving into college, but now that you're here, that seems stupid. You wish your roommate was already here, because you don't want to set up and find out he wants to change everything. So you don't unpack your bags or make your bed or anything. You just plug in the fridge in one corner and throw a six-pack of soda in and then start hauling all of your worldly possessions up the stairs. And you wait. And you wait a little bit more. And then Ted takes a soda and tells you that hey, he'd love to chat, he'll see you later man-

And now it's just you, your notebook, and a pile of bags leaning against the wall.

You don't think college makes you keep a journal the way Vista does, but you don't want to be caught unprepared if they do.

If anyone catches you, just claim you're going to be an English major, and hope you look pretentious enough to pull it off.

What are they going to do, call you a wimp? It's college now. The Cro Mags won't be here anymore.

Maybe you should just put the journal away. He'll probably get here soon.

  


TWENTY MINUTES LATER

What if Rick is a Cro Mag and he just hides it really well in e-mails?

Freshmen are moving in for the next three days. Rick's here for some extra orientation program you weren't even invited to. You're not sure why you're here early. Maybe you should have stayed home for a few more days of catching up with your eleventh grade (!!!) friends. Dawn's back from the East Coast, and your one last dinner with her and Maggie and Sunny and Amalia never happened.

Maybe you should call them tomorrow. Then, maybe Rick won't ask if you have a girlfriend. Maybe he'll just assume. That would be perfect.

Or maybe he'll ask. That... won't be.

You wish you were anyone but you. It's a lot harder to do all of this yourself.

Oh, well. It's gonna be an awkward four years, Ducky old pal. Might as well get used to it now.

  


WAY, WAY LATER

You worry too much, Ducky. You always have, you always will.

Rick is fine. He's a geek, but it's a well-known fact that geeks get along well with your people. He brought a TV, which is now on top of the fridge in a place of honor. He also brought a computer that makes your brand-new laptop look like it just got rescued from the junkyard. He asked why you hadn't chosen a bed or moved the furniture around or anything. Stupid, McCrae. He chooses the bottom bunk. You'd wanted the top anyway. You should make decisions sometimes. Everyone else seems to be able to.

His parents were nice. Kind of loud, but nice. They helped you move some of your stuff in, too. When you said your parents were on another continent they invited you over for dinner. You told them you'd wait to see if your parents will be home by then, but really, you know you won't go. What would Ted do?

Rick sets up his computer before he even makes his bed, and stays up late playing a game that you don't even remotely understand, even though he tries to explain it to you. You hadn't realized how much the best part of you and Ted living _sans parents_ was that most of the time, you were _sans Ted_ as well.

He goes to bed eventually, but you can't sleep. You just sit up there, in your bunk bed. The shadows are different than usual. The sounds of Rick sleeping are distracting. You're trying not to think too much.

You don't want to be one of those college guys who goes home the first weekend he's here.

You don't. And you're not.

(Are you?)

  


AUGUST 28  
10:45 AM

You're awake way too early today.

Rick has his orientation, but he turned off his alarm clock as soon as it went off and got ready immediately and quietly (bonus in a roommate!), so you thought you'd get to have a nice morning in. But no, your new next-door neighbor is moving in today, and his family is loud with a capital LOUD.

You realize they're all probably moving in here with their moms, so you make sure that you are more than covered enough when you stumble into the bathroom to brush your teeth.

There are so many people in the room next door, the hall is literally overflowing. There are a few little kids in the hall, running around after each other. One of them, the smallest, almost runs into you. She's not chasing the others; she's just managed to get lost. Which probably happens a lot when you're the smallest. You manage to re-orient her on your way back to your room.

Orient. Orientation. What a weird word. It means so many things. It doesn't really mean anything at all.

A girl who looks about Dawn and Maggie's age is keeping an eye on them while she carries a box through the hall, and she stops to flash you a grateful smile. "Sorry," she says. "They're just excited to be in California. We're going to Disneyland after Sam's settled in here."

"First time?" you ask.

"For them," she says. "I've been here to visit friends. You?"

"I've lived here all my life," you say. You realize how pretentious you sound, but you can't take back the words once they're out.

From inside the room, you hear a voice: "You're not supposed to flirt with people at my school until I've already made friends."

And laughter, the sound of laughing parents. You try to figure out what it would be like to have parents not just helping you move in, but _laughing_ about it. The girl just yells back "I'm not flirting. I'm making conversation, you jerk."

There's a moment where all the possible answers fly through your head. First your own, and then ones that you would never say. Answers that aren't token Ducky. Answers that a regular college guy would say, being a regular college guy with regular college goals.

It turns out it's not necessary, because she gets her reply: "Help out or get out!" from inside the room.

She grins at you apologetically, then fixes her baseball cap and turns back to the kids and starts herding them outside. When you finally decide you're awake enough to deal with sunlight, you can see her organizing a game of Red Rover for the four kids she came with and a few assorted others, from families that all seem really grateful.

Next door, you can hear them rearranging the furniture.

It's really, really lonely in your room, all of a sudden.

Maybe you will go home. Just for a few hours, or something.

  


1:15 PM

So you didn't go home.

You were going to, but on your way to the parking lot, you got distracted by the ORIENTATION FAIR. It's painted in big letters on a sheet hung across the quad, and you wound up going even though you went to an orientation in June. There were lots more clubs set up this time, and they were all trying to flag down freshmen to join.

The football team didn't even look at you. This is good. Mostly because they didn't try to make fun of you either. At least, not yet.

You ended up taking information from the French club, the Model UN, the Gay/Straight Alliance, the Shakespearean theatre company, the group that shows movies every week on a huge screen, and (out of respect to Dawn) the environmentalist club. They all tell you websites to find information and people to contact and times to meet and email lists to join. The Rocky Horror people and the anime club made eyes at you, trying to seduce you to their dark side, but you successfully dodged them both.

You were going to throw your things in the car, but on your way, you passed a group of girls talking loudly about Tyler Kendall and how cute he is, and what they all thought about _Love Conquers All_. It made you feel weird to hear, but not the kind of weird that you want to share with Dawn or Sunny or, god forbid, Maggie.

You don't think you're outgrowing them. But you don't know why you don't want to tell them this either. So you just grab a hamburger from the barbecue the fencing team is sponsoring, and bolt back to your room.

You spend a long time staring down at the flyers the clubs gave you. Maybe that'll lead to a social life.

br

JUST AFTER MIDNIGHT

Your next-door neighbor says:  
(A) he's from Connecticut, which explains the accent;  
(B) he has three siblings, two half-siblings, and an adopted younger sister, which explains the giant mob this morning;  
(C) he's a huge sports fan, which explains the posters in the room;  
and  
(D) his name is Sam, which explains the girl in the hall calling him Sam.

Sam likes sports, but he's not a Cro Mag at all. He likes theatre too, he says. And he's really, really funny. You could definitely get used to having Sam around.

His family left after dinner time (while you were very busy eating cold pizza in the cafeteria, alone, and wondering how many people were judging you because, hey, alone), and then he decided to knock on your door and say hi.

You ended up watching a movie with him and his roommate James, which was pretty cool. When Rick came back he joined you. The four of you decided that tomorrow night you'll go meet other people on the hall. Sam wanted to do it tonight, but you really didn't, and Rick didn't seem to either.

James looked at the flyers you collected and pointed to one and asked if you'd be going. You shrugged and said yes. He said you should go get him before going to the meeting.

You didn't check which flyer he was looking at. Good job, Ducky. Great plan.

Everyone seems to think you're cool, so far. And funny. They like you.

When Sam asked what your name was, you said Chris.

  


AUGUST 30  
WAITING FOR RICK TO BE READY FOR DINNER

You signed up for classes today. Compared your list with James, with Sam, with Rick. With a bunch of the girls on the hall. In high school, you never had friends in your classes. With here, there'll be at least two or three people in every class.

None of them are like Sunny. None of them are like Maggie or Amalia or Dawn. But you didn't really expect that, anyway.

You don't mention your friends from home to your new college friends. There's a little too much to tell there, so you don't say anything at all.

You throw out the envelopes from the letters they send before getting to the dorm, so no one sees the girly curls on the writing or the way that everything's addressed to _Ducky_.

When Rick asks what you're looking at, you just say it's a letter from Sunny, and he doesn't ask anything more than that.

br

SEPTEMBER 4  
BEER O'CLOCK, ACCORDING TO SAM

You and Rick went together to the Model UN meeting. Afterwards, everyone wandered off, and then regrouped for beer.

James went with you to the Gay/Straight Alliance. Afterwards, you all headed to a bar.

Sam went with you to the theatre meeting. Afterwards, everyone went back to someone's dorm, where there was wine. (Well, it _was_ theatre.)

You're starting to notice a theme.

  


SEPTEMBER 9  
BETWEEN CALCULUS AND CONVERSATIONAL FRENCH

There are far fewer hours in class than there were in high school. Also, they don't seem to notice- or care- if you spend the entire class updating your journal.

But there's way more homework here. You don't really have time to work in your journal when you could be doing that class's work... in class. Novel concept, McCrae.

It turns out that study groups actually work. So does paying attention to lectures. And you're a pretty big fan of papers instead of pop quizzes. At least high school prepared you enough to know _that_.

You'll never be an A student, but it's a lot easier to maintain a B like this than it ever was at Vista.

  


SEPTEMBER 14  
WAY PAST BEDTIME

Sam dated three girls in the first week of college, and judging by how often James has come over to sleep on the floor, that hasn't died down. Any time he mentions his baseball scholarship, girls practically fall into bed with him. Rick doesn't have a girlfriend, officially, but he has a girl he likes who he may or may not have kissed a few times at their role-playing club.

When Rick's not-girlfriend dumps him, you listen to him for hours and say all the right comforting things. When Sam breaks up with girls, more and more often you're the one who can make them feel better and get them back to their rooms to cry with their girlfriends and discuss how all men are scum.

How many kisses have you gotten since getting here?

Zip.

Zero.

Nada.

You are starting to feel like a freak. But there's no girl that grabs you.

"Don't worry," Sam tells you. "You'll find someone soon. How about her?"

You say no. So Sam picks her up instead.

They don't make you feel like a freak here. They're nice. Accepting, even. But you're not.

It's not high school anymore, McCrae. It's not okay anymore.

  


OCTOBER 2  
JUST BEFORE CALCULUS

Ducky really liked to update his journal.

Apparently, Chris doesn't do that much.

  


OCTOBER 4  
11:21 AM

Vista gives them a week off when you don't. You think maybe you'll drive home for a weekend to see some of your friends- and maybe even your brother, if he's around.

It turns out you don't need to. Dawn calls you late one night.

"Ducky!" she screams into the phone. Dawn always screams when she means to talk. "How could you not _tell_ me you know Sam Thomas?"

You know it's Dawn, because her name came up on your little cell phone screen, but the words don't make sense. "What?" you ask, because it's the only sentence your brain can think to put together.

"Sam!" she repeats. "Sam Thomas!"

"What about Sam?" you ask. You're trying to figure out how you got punk'd without ever telling your friends about each other. You raise an eyebrow at Rick, but he just shrugs.

"He's from Connecticut! Stoneybrook!" Dawn continues.

"Oh," you say.

"Where _I'm_ from?" she continues. "Ducky, how much have you been _drinking_ at college?"

You wish she'd stop saying Ducky. You're convinced Rick can hear it through the phone. "I didn't realize you'd know him," you say. "I thought I was your _only_ older boyfriend."

She laughs, like there's a story there you don't know. You don't ask. "She's my stepsister's best friend's brother," she explains.

"Well," you say, "so long as it's not complicated."

"And she's coming up on her break to see Sam."

"Sam's sister?" you repeat, mostly for the benefit of Rick.

"Yes, Sam's sister. And that happens to be when we have off, too. And I haven't seen Kristy in, like, _years_ , and besides, she'll need things to do while Sam's in class. So _I_ was thinking that maybe you could let me and Maggie and Sunny and Amalia-"

"Stay here?" You just keep repeating what she says. You sound like a ventriloquist dummy. "Girls? I don't know, Dawn-"

Rick interrupts. Loudly. "Yes," he calls. "Yes, whatever girls are on the phone, you can totally come stay here overnight."

"Is that your roommate? He says it's okay?" Dawn asks. And she squeals a little. "Awesome! We'll call you with details later, okay, Ducky?" And she hangs up.

  


WAY, WAY, WAY TOO LATE

No one seems to understand how this is bad.

"Four girls coming just to see you," Sam says, shaking his head. "Man, I'm only having one over here, and she's _related_ to me."

"Dawn says she knows you," you point out.

He shrugs. "I knew her when she was a kid. I bet she's grown up. And grown..." And then he makes a disgusting gesture that reminds you of the Cro Mags at Vista.

"She's fine," you say. "That's not the point. Dawn's not my girlfriend."

Something in your face must convince him to back off. He just kind of shrugs and asks if you want to go with him to watch a movie at some point. You do.

You, Rick, Sam, and James end up watching Star Wars, and you all end up at a diner, eating greasy hamburgers and talking about how much you wanted to be in the movie when you were kids.

You almost forget about Sam's comment.

Except you're sitting up now writing about it.

So clearly not enough.

  


OCTOBER 7  
8:13 PM

Sunny gets permission right away, because her dad loves you. Maggie gets permission because Maggie's dad will let her do anything. Dawn's parents say okay because Sam's sister will be here. Amalia's parents are harder to convince, but the idea of looking at colleges the fall of their junior year wins them over. You just have to find girls who are willing to let them stay over; they aren't supposed to sleep in a boy's room, or something. It's no problem; plenty of girls are willing to host, especially if you smile at them about how interested the prospective students are. Especially, especially, especially if Sam does.

"He's pretty cute," you comment to one particularly star-struck-looking girl who's agreed to house one of your friends.

She gives you a look, and you wonder if she's about to try to flirt with you. She just says "Yeah," and closes the door.

Clearly, you are about as good with the ladies as you were in high school.

It's kind of a relief to know some things never change.

  


OCTOBER 8  
A FEW HOURS AFTER LUNCH, A FEW BEFORE DINNER

You and Sam go to the drama club meetings. You and James go to other ones. You and Rick, ditto.

You'd made a mistake at the beginning of the semester. You're making all your friends between classes and at concerts and in the dorms. At these clubs, you're just telling people what you care about. And none of that really matters anymore.

You know what you care about. Sunny, Dawn, Maggie, and Amalia are going to be here tomorrow.

You start cleaning your room so that none of the girls need to sit on piles of dirty underwear and socks.

You just want to make it special for them.

"You're such a girl, McCrae," Rick says with a laugh.

He's been playing World of Warcraft since before you woke up, so you feel superior enough to ignore the comment and keep sorting your lights and your darks.

  


LATER

It's agreed that Dawn and Kristy will stay in Sam's room, and Maggie and Amalia will stay across the hall with his current girlfriend. Sunny will be staying with you.

When you dropped off a few extra sets of sheets next door, Sam asked if he needs to give you the safe sex talk.

James gave you a very serious look. You ignored it. Ignored both of them. Made a joke about the legality of jailbait.

Sam laughed. You're not sure if James did.

  


LATER

Rick is trying to convince you to set up one of those ways to show that the other one can't come into the room because of sex. Like a sock on the doorknob. Or a girl's scrunchie. You asked him where you'd _find_ a girl's scrunchie. He said, off the girl you're having sex with. You asked what would happen if that girl had short hair.

Since then you haven't said anything. You're too busy cracking up.

  


OCTOBER 9  
EARLY, EARLY, EARLY

You told Sunny you'd drive home to pick them up if they wanted, but Maggie has a car (of course) that she is more than happy to drive (of course).

You wish you'd had a better idea of when they were coming. Right now, you just know that you're awake way too early and you're just going to sit tensely til they get here.

Unless they get here when you're in class. You don't know WHAT will happen then.

Well, Sam's skipping all classes today so that he can pick his sister up from the airport at some point. Hopefully, he can handle this too.

Maybe even without sleeping with any of your friends.

  


JUST BEFORE CALCULUS

What if they can't find a parking space near the dorm?

What if they can't find a parking space anywhere on campus?

  


TWENTY MINUTES TIL FRENCH

What if they can't find a parking space anywhere in the town? What if they go home?

What if you don't think that's such a horrible thing?

  


4:45 PM

All is well. All is surprisingly well. Amalia just called on Maggie's cell phone to tell you that they're about twenty minutes away.

Sam just got back. He has your car (of course), still in one piece.

His sister recognizes you from the first day. She says, "I didn't realize you knew _Dawn_."

You say, "I didn't realize she was famous all across Connecticut," and she giggles.

Sam shakes his head. "Few people can reduce Kristy Thomas to giggles," he informs you solemnly. "You must be a miracle worker."

You can tell the wheels are spinning. He's totally ready to set you up with his little sister.

He's right that she doesn't seem to notice that you don't play sports, wear sports team shirts, or care about sports in any known way- making you the polar opposite of what you're guessing she wants. He's wrong that this is what you'd want, at all.

You bow overdramatically. "I do what I can."

She turns to Sam. "We should call Mom and Watson, and check in."

He gestures her into her room, and follows her, and you're left alone in your room. Better to go back to your room, then, and wait by the phone and your journal, then stand in the hall looking dumb.

Oh, bet that's Maggie. More later.

  


1:15 AM

Somehow, when you'd said later, you thought it would be normal later. You know, back by ten thirty, everyone doing their homework or ready for bed. But you guess college changes everyone, even if it's just for a night. Even Maggie. Even Dawn.

You guess it's different, here.

This is how everything went:

CROWD OF GIRLS: "Ducky? Ducky? Does anyone know where Ducky is?"  
EVERYONE: "Ducky? I don't know a Ducky. Wasn't that the guy from _Pretty in Pink_?"  
GIRLS: "But Ducky. We're looking for Ducky. Our Ducky. Ducky?"  
YOU: "Hi? ...Hi? Guys?"  
GIRLS: "DUCKY! No one knew you!"  
YOU: "Weird."  
EVERYONE, LOOKING AT YOU BUT NOT SAYING ANYTHING: "Why didn't they just ask for Chris?"

So that was awkward.

But you cleared everything up. Told funny stories and made everyone feel okay and somehow, people here are calling you Ducky, not people from high school calling you Chris -- because that was what you _wanted_. Then you made sure they'd gotten a parking permit and checked in with the admissions office, and then you brought them all up to your floor and your room.

Rick is clearly struck dumb by your friends. Sam is grinning a lot like he knows a secret that no one else knows, which is weird because normally he'd be _saying_ that. James is glaring a lot but not saying anything.

Luckily, the silence is easily filled. Fifteen- and sixteen-year-old girls are like that. Sam's sister talks a lot, and Dawn wants to hear everything about her Connecticut friends. Maggie has industry stories that everyone wants to hear, and Amalia's got a ton of gossip from being involved with the music scene. Sunny's just _Sunny_ , and that's enough. You sit in between her and Dawn, which is perfect.

You wouldn't have given the girls alcohol at all, but Sam promises them some beer their last night here. You still remember Alex drinking, which is probably why you tend to be the designated driver.

"Come on, man," Rick says. "Lowered inhibitions, you and Sunny..."

He's trying to be a nice guy. You can tell.

"We're just friends," you insist. "There's no chemistry there."

When you get back to your room, you offer Sunny your bed, but she insists you can share. It's so... Sunny.

You hope this won't get back to Sam.

You hope it won't get back to James.

  


OCTOBER 10  
RIGHT AFTER LUNCH

Hope is dead. Long live faith and charity.

  


11:30 PM

Weird: Writing in here was not that important before, but now that your Vista friends are here, all that you want is to write in your journal. And now that they're here, you haven't had time to all day.

Now you do, though. Dawn, Maggie, and Amalia are in your room (Sunny's next door, trying to convince Kristy to let her curl her hair before she goes to sleep), and everyone's doing what you're doing: journals. Writing in their journals. Like it's normal. It used to be, you remember. It used to be something you didn't hide.

Sometimes one of them will look up and comment about something, and everyone will laugh and then you all go back to writing.

Dawn is probably writing about seeing signs for the Environmental Club, printed on recycled paper (of course) and advertising a new and exciting event.

Amalia's probably writing about the kids set up on the quad, who had a big sign for the Hispanic Students' Union. She didn't stop or anything, but you could see her eyes straying back to them until she was way, way, way far away.

Maggie's probably writing about the a capella group that was practicing in the dorm lounge downstairs. She stopped to watch them practice for so long that Dawn and Amalia and Sunny went off without her for a while, and came back and she was still there.

And what about you, Duckster? You're thinking about James, and Sam, and the looks on their faces when they found out that you slept in a bed with Sunny.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Sunny just came in to remind you that tomorrow's going to be her last full day with you, and asks if you'll be doing something special. You swear that you will.

Note to self: now is the time to think of a great surprise.

It has to be better than when you dressed up as Cupid. She's seen that one already.

  


OCTOBER 11  
3:45 PM

You don't have any class today, so you were prepared for some group bonding time, but that fell through. Everyone decided to split up in the afternoon and meet up later. Sam introduced Maggie to one of the girls from an a capella group, who's taking her to a rehearsal. You're in a class with someone from the softball team, who Kristy's spending some quality time with now. With some prodding, Amalia talked to the Hispanic Student Union, and they're actively recruiting her.

Leaving you with just Sunny and Dawn.

It's nice. You hadn't expected it to be this nice.

You're all just lying around your room- Rick's not around, so it's just you three- and Sunny looks downright content.

Dawn does not.

"I should have written it down," she keeps saying. "I should have written it down."

"Written what down?" Sunny asks finally, looking up from her own journal. She hasn't been paying attention at all, which is maybe what happens when you've been best friends with Dawn for ten years.

"The Environmental Club information," she says. "It was tonight. I would have liked to go."

"You know," you say, "I got a flyer. I think it had a website, if you want to check information."

"Ducky!" she squeals. (Squeals, not says.) "That would be the _best_."

You tell her where the papers are (in the drawer, by your laptop), and she starts to go through them.

You realize, just a little bit too late, what she'll find. And if you'd taken the lower bed, you might have been able to stop her, but bolting out is a lot harder when you're five feet in the air. You find yourself climbing down the ladder, each step feeling like needles through the soles of your feet.

There are lots of papers in the pile Dawn's looking through. French club. Model UN. Shakespeare.

The Gay/Straight Alliance.

Dawn's fingering the flyers, spread out neatly beside my laptop. "Ducky?" she says quietly.

You don't answer.

"Is this... are you?"

She doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't need to.

You didn't think it would go like this. You didn't think it would be like this at all.

"What?" Sunny asks. It's enough to make her close her journal (the pen inside the notebook leaves it gaping open, like a mouth about to say something as stupid as what you just did) and get up to join Dawn.

You didn't want her to find out like this. You were going to tell Sunny yourself. You were going to tell her as soon as you were sure.

Maybe when you were older. Way older.

Maybe when you (couldn't) get married.

"Are you what?" Sunny asks, and then she sees the paper, and you can see her process it, for maybe a second. Then her eyes get a little wide, and then she gets it.

"I don't know," you say. "Maybe."

It's the worst answer you could give her. You expect her to be pissed. She'd be right. You expect her to yell at you until she goes hoarse.

Instead she shoves you. "Why didn't you _tell_ me?" she demands.

"I don't know," you say again. You sound like a broken record.

She shoves you again. "You jerk," she says. "Do you think I'd care? We're your _friends_. We don't care who you _like_. You're _Ducky_." You think she's going to shove you a third time, and you tense up, but instead she's hugging you. Because she's Sunny.

"We don't know everything either, Ducky," Dawn says. "That's why we talk to you. Because then we do."

You don't know what to say. You want to cry. You don't even know why. You just do.

"I found the environmental club flyer," she continues. "Can I check the website?"

"Of course," you say. You know that she doesn't really care about going anymore, but she wants to leave you some time with Sunny. You don't need her to go, but it means a lot that she thinks of it, anyway.

And then Sunny moves back to writing in her journal, so you... sit back down.

And start to write all this up.

You don't even know if she's writing about this. She's probably still stuck on Kristy's hair.

Now she's saying your name. And she sounds really serious.

You should probably put this away. Right. Now.

Right.

  


OCTOBER 12  
10:00 AM

Beer: drunk.  
Late night talking: the best, especially with Sunny.  
Sleep: achieved, if barely.  
Girls: gone.  
Ducky: missing them, quite a lot.  
Rick: seems weirdly relieved that they're gone.  
Sam: convinced Maggie would sleep with him.  
James: smiling a lot. Maybe even at you.  
Campus: feels kind of empty. Except for one thing.

Walking back from Maggie's car, you see your door.

It still says RICHARD, like it used to. And it still says CHRISTOPHER.

But now your sign is covered with stickers. Eight rubber duckies. All of them with devil horns. And your friends have all signed their names, just in case you forget.

You need more sleep. But first, you'll need to figure out how to stop smiling.

 


End file.
